The loss of foundation

An injury that shook the core of a soccer player.

By Aaron Heckmann

I had already spent a few days of tryouts punching soccer balls, diving quickly left and right and punting the ball as far as I could down the field with confidence as a freshman, 16, at Centennial High School.

So I couldn’t believe it.

“Why is this happening to me?” I thought as my mom told me it would be ok.

Across from the doctor in a chair, with my mom by my side, I heard the results within the walls of the dark, square room.

I was done.

All the work I put in before tryouts. The excitement I had as I wore my new gloves. The goal of improvement I wanted to accomplish. All to hear for my season to be over before it ever began.

My back — my foundation — was broken. So were my hopes in my freshman year as soccer was violently taken away from me in a matter of seconds.

The feeling of excruciating pain that felt like lightning going through my back during a mini scrimmage at the tryouts wasn’t the byproduct of a specific play. The constant stretching and extending ended my season as I quickly dove again and again and again. The break is common among soccer goalies or other athletes, such as volleyball players, who constantly extend, the doctor told me.

The heartbreaking reality of my first year being stripped away from me after really thinking I had a chance. I never felt so confident in my ability. I thought about all the diving saves I made during tryouts, and the aggressiveness I pursued as I ran toward an attacking player on a breakaway to cut down the angle, which displayed my willingness to compete and not stay still.

I felt like I lost everything.

My freshman season. Team unity. The feeling of purpose.

Just like how I played aggressively as a goalie, I knew I needed to run toward the injury, not remain in place waiting. So I became the ball boy.

I felt like I lost the ability to do life’s simplest things.

Carefully walking and bending down to get the ball for the team during practices when the ball flew wide or high. Not that I could bend down fast with the heavy brace with mini soccer balls on it that I was forced to wear that made me feel like I was swimming up the Mississippi River.

Catching friends between classes, carrying any weight and even bending down became a challenge. And not being able to carry anything turned into the worst of it as I walked the halls with a friend carrying my backpack around — after every class, all day and every day. I felt like I lost the ability to do life’s simplest things.

I dreaded the book, filled with exercise after exercise. I dreaded the appointments at Summit Orthopedics in Vadnais Heights. I dreaded leaving class.

I resentfully followed the doctor’s orders. But I also wanted to be healed, as fast as possible. I wanted to put a smile on my physical therapist’s face when I properly did an exercise to strengthen my back. And I of course didn’t want to hear her accountability comments.

I dreaded the book, filled with exercise after exercise. I dreaded the appointments at Summit Orthopedics in Vadnais Heights. I dreaded leaving class.

I just wanted life to be back to normal. The only time I felt normal was sleeping at night, the one time I was allowed to take the brace off.

This season of life helped me realize that I took the little things in life — something as small as a daily routine — for granted. As much as I desired to return between the goal posts on the field, I learned how much other aspects of life can be overshadowed by a sport. In hindsight, my 20-year-old self isn’t surprised — even though I sometimes fall in a state of regret — that I walked away from soccer just a year later.